


Team Building

by princessvicky01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Bashful Cullen, F/M, Fluff, Light-Hearted, One Shot, Pre-Relationship, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:18:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessvicky01/pseuds/princessvicky01
Summary: Fan fic give away prize for @elegance-and-power on tumblrOne off piece with her lovely mage OC Angelique and Cullen, of course! So note Angelique doesn't belong to me/isn't my character, but then again neither is Cullen!SFW Lighthearted banter and fluff from bashful Cullen POV pre romance. I do love it when he’s flustered :p





	Team Building

The note left on his desk had been hastily written and at first glance he wondered if it might be one of Sera’s pranks. Unless she’d mastered Inquisitor Fiona’s hand writing and stolen her seal however, that didn’t seem likely.

Cullen felt odd stepping out of his office in his plain attire. The distinct nip in the air is far less pleasant without his layers and his breath fogs on his brisk walk over the battlements. For whatever reason, perhaps simply because it was a Tuesday, the Inquisitor had called a ‘team building’ evening. The whole idea seemed perfectly adequate, until he’d continued reading the note to discover his attendance was a must and that he should dress casually.

_Causal_. He scoffs as he tugs at his linen shirt neck; he was the Inquisition’s Commander and should dress appropriately. Besides he feels decidedly more vulnerable without his armour. Exposed somehow. He’d worn it in one form or another for so many years that the freedom of moving without its weight in public felt somehow wrong.

Entering the hall, he can see he’s late and the drinking has already begun in earnest. The Inquisitor, her inner circle, Josephine and Leliana are all sat around one of the long tables, so are the chargers and a few other familiar faces from the tavern.

He surveys the scene from the doorway, drinking in the warmth and lively energy humming from the normally cold room. Gatherings like this always made him slightly uncomfortable and he shifts on the spot, not sure how to go about quietly slipping in with the throng and merriment.

A steady voice inside tells him this is pointless. They were clearly enjoying themselves without him and he had other, more important, things to do with his evening. He nods in silent agreement, grateful for his logic and accepting it without question as he turns to leave. He barely takes one step when there’s a lull in the melody of noise, and he catches her laugh.

Ears perked, he turns back, eyes flickering, searching the tables until he finds her, sat at the far end, closest to the main entrance. Angelique.

He can’t help but be pulled half a step towards her, drawn by the smile she’s desperately trying to hide behind her hand. Varric’s thick arm nudges her and she shakes her head while more laughter spills from her. Their conversation is lost to him over the general din but whatever it is seems to have her giggling like a schoolgirl.

A small smile spreads across his own lips at the sight of her, happy and flushed with merriment. The seat across from her is empty, but he quickly dismisses the notion of joining them. This really isn’t his thing. Although from what he knew of her, it likely wasn’t her’s either… and he would like to know more of her…

A small frown creases his brow as he pushes the temptation aside. She’s a mage, had been one of his charges, albeit a lifetime ago, and she’s stunningly beautiful, with long waves of dark hair and captivating grey eyes like none he’s ever seen… No, he mustn’t dwell on her beauty. Mustn’t dwell on her. On something he is unworthy to have.

Turning to leave he’s brought up short by a mabari, and not just any mabari, but her mabari. Tongue hanging out it wags its stump of a tail at him.

“Jack,” he greets politely before kneeling to pet it roughly. “Enjoying the festivities?”

“He wants you to stay,” Cole’s soft voice almost makes Cullen lurch out of his skin, heart soaring and fist reaching for a sword that isn’t there.

“He likes you,” offers Cole with a hopeful smile and big eyes gazing up from under his floppy hat.

Cullen shakes his head. He’s still not used to having, well, whatever Cole was, around and finds him a little unsettling. Although the boy had proven himself to be trustworthy, some old prejudices were hard to shake. “I’m sure I won’t be missed, besides I have important things I must attend to, like-“

He’s cut off by a booming bark from the hound who drops into a play bow before him.

“- I didn’t mean play with you,” he snorts with a light chuckle as the great lummox begins to bound around his feet as if it were a tiny pup.

“Commander! You’re late, but I suppose taking off all that armour and making sure your hair is pretty must take time,” Inquisitor Fiona’s teasing voice sounds from behind and he knows he has no chance of escape now.

“Ah, Inquisitor, yes… I was just finishing off some reports and-“

“Pfft,” she claps him on the arm and tugs lightly. “You’re here to have fun, not talk about the Inquisition. Now come on, let’s get you a drink.”

His lips twitch in smile. He supposed he could use a drink, a chance to unwind, it’s not like he took much time for himself. Before he knows what’s going on he’s being lead down the hall. A full tankard is handed to him from somewhere and he thanks the general direction it comes from as the Inquisitor drags him through the growing throng.

“Sit here for me, would you?” At the Inquisitor’s simple request, he nods and goes to sit. That’s when his eyes catch hers. He stops. Muscles freezing, still hunched, as his heart rushes up to lodge in his throat. Angelique. Dressed in the colours of the ocean she wears softest smile, her eyes glittering in the glow of so many torches, her glance darts away and she tugs some loose hair to wrap it round her finger.

“Are you practicing your squats Curly or planning on joining us?” Varric’s thick laugh makes him blink heavily as he’s drawn back to the room.

_Yes. Of course. Sitting. Right._

Nodding again he finally sits opposite her. He doesn’t really have an excuse for his behaviour, not beyond the obvious truth; that he’d been transfixed by her beauty, so he chooses to remain silent on the matter and hope the dwarf will let it go.

“So, rumour has it, you two shared a dance at the Winter palace,” muses Varric with drink in hand and a cock of his brow across the table.

Cullen’s eyes narrow on him. “And where did you hear that?”

“Come on now Curly, you know I never reveal my sources!”

Cullen straightens in his chair, hand wrapped around his tankard, as he tries quickly to think of something plausible to say that won’t result in the creep of a blush up his neck.

“I told him,” Angelique voice quips up and draws his attention back to her. The creases in his brow loosen and fade as she looks to the table with a slight blush on her cheek.

“Oh,” glancing to the table himself he shifts to relax slightly. It wasn’t like it was a secret, but still, he’d rather the whole of Skyhold hadn’t heard about his failings on the dance floor. “Yes, well, Angelique was kind enough to try to teach me, it’s not like I’ve ever had much need for dancing-“

“I don’t know, dodging fire balls and ice shards can look a lot like some of those Orlesian dances, perhaps you’ve been holding out on us?” mocks Varric, humour and mead thickening his voice.

Chuckling lightly, Cullen shakes his head before taking a sip of his mead. Its drenched with sweet honey and instantly sends a pleasant hum through his chest which melts some of the stiffness from him. Seems he had needed a drink after all.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t use any of my magic to prompt it,” said Angelique, her smile growing broader as it lands back on him. Their eyes lock for a heartbeat and he just stares… pulled into their depths by something he can’t explain.

She’s right, it’s not magic. He’s experienced enough of that to know this is different. Related perhaps, but in a way he can’t explain, a way that makes his pulse quicken and his palms grow clammy even as his throat runs dry.

“Good to hear!” Varric’s loud tone shatters the look they share and brings Cullen back to focus on the dwarf. “Speaking of good things to hear, Ruffles has only gone and arranged another round of Wicked Grace,” Varric’s thick eyebrow arches once more at him. “You in?”

Now he gives a firm shake of his head before a small smirk tugs at his lips. “No. I’m afraid I’m not suitably dressed,” he motions to the lack of layers and shares in their light hearted chuckle.

“Suit yourself. Angelique, look after him for me would you? Make sure he actually, you know, loosens up a little,” Varric pats her on the shoulder as he stands to leave.

“I’ll try,” her reply is sweet and genuine which only adds to the warmth spreading in Cullen’s chest.

Suddenly Varric is gone and he realises they’ve been left alone. He glances down the long table, strangely enough the Inquisitor seems to have gathered everyone to cram at the other end for the game, forcing Varric to all but sit in Bull’s lap.

“I noticed it too,” Angelique voice is quiet, only for his ears, and he turns back to find her leant slightly forward eyeing the party. “And the Inquisitor keeps winking at me…”

“You think she’s done this on purpose?” he asks, brows slightly furrowed. He supposed it was possible, and the more he thinks about it the more plausible the prospect of being set up becomes. Angelique nods, some loose waves fall over her face, she’s quick to brush them back and glance away.

“Ah,” he takes a long swig of his drink, needing the courage if little else, plus buying him some time to think of what he should say.

He has noticed her shy glances, her unnecessary visits to his office…and he can’t deny he’s shown more interest in potions and tonics then he has ever before, just for an excuse to see her.

Although he’s still isn’t sure. It seems too good a thing; she is too good a thing.

The hard truth however is that he bitterly regretted not kissing her after their slow dance, her delicate frame in his hands, the way she’d looked up at him with the warmest of smiles. But he’d let fear rule him, clutch at his chest and pull him away as the music ended, all under the pretence that it was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“Do you think they know, we know?” she asks, bringing his focus back to here and now rather than his platitude of regrets and worries.

“Leliana probably does,” he cracks a smirk and glances to the woman, still concealed under her cowl and tossing coin into the fray with the rest.

Suddenly there’s a collective gasp and various disgusted tutting noises. Leaning back and peering down the walkway Cullen soon spies the cause. The mabari, Jack.

“I think your mabari has enjoyed the party a little too much…” he trails off as the dog proceeds to vomit in the central aisle, again.

Without waiting for an explanation Angelique is already on her feet, a blur of turquoise satin and dark locks as she rushes to the hound’s side. He swiftly follows suit but can’t prevent his eyes being drawn to the curves of her rear as she bends to comfort the creature.

“Gross! It smells like stinky Orlesian arses!” Sera laughs wildly and he notes how Josephine’s eyes suddenly shot open.

“The cheese boards!” Spinning the diplomat begins a little half run, half walk to the kitchen only to be halted by an officer with a sympathetic look and hand on her shoulder.

“Maybe we should leave,” Cullen speaks quietly as he crouches by Angelique, still stroking the mabari’s head as he looks up with sorrowful eyes. “Before he does anymore, damage.”

It’s too late and he’s sick once more making even the stoic Commander wrinkle his nose.

“Jack! You’re a bad dog. Bad, you know that frosting makes you sick,” Angelique attempts to scold the animal who proceeds to whine and hide his face under his huge bear like paw. She sighs heavily and glances up to Cullen.

“Those petit fours with the pink frosting are surprisingly moreish,” he offers in way of defence for the creature whose tail stump gives a light wag. His quip seems to have cheered her a little and she offers him a light thankful smile.

“Come on,” she shakes her head at the mutt and rises.

In the background Cullen hears the Ambassador gasp something about- ‘not the petite fours!’, and he promptly wraps his arms around the hound’s chest to helps lift him up.

“He didn’t mean too,” murmurs Cole, crouching next to the guilt-ridden dog. “But everyone was talking about how delicious it all was, he was so very hungry…”

“Maybe you should go help Josephine?” prompts Cullen, still trying to lift the mutt’s bulk and nodding in her direction as a list of ‘damages’ from the kitchen is brought over.

“Yes, its ruined, all ruined…” Cole mumbles already moving off absentmindedly.

 

Angelique sets about coaxing her faithful companion to her chambers, with Cullen acting as back stop, proving gentle pats of encouragement along the way as Jack plodded along like a condemned man. Before they reach her room however the dog stops and refuses to budge.

Running her hands through her hair Angelique sighs once again. “Will you see him to my chambers? I’m low on some of the herbs I need to help settle his stomach.”

“Of course,” Cullen nods as she walks off mumbling something and it makes him smile. A pathetic noise, akin to a whimper sounds from his feet and he too sighs. “Come on then,” crouching he helps heave the dog back up.

Despite his best efforts Jack remains firmly in a depressed sitting position. He didn’t want to be stuck in the same spot when she returned so when gentle coaxing didn’t work he changed tact and narrowed his eyes. “I know you can bloody well walk, now on your paws soldier!”

The dog looks up then reluctantly stands before setting down one hefty paw after the other.

“Sorry about that,” Cullen’s quick apology follows the miserable dog who gives a few lazy wags of his tail, leaving the Commander to wonder how much the animal actually understood.

They finally arrive at her chambers and no sooner is he in the door than Jack decides to lay down with an epic thud and stare up at him with remorseful eyes. Stepping over the great beast he kneels to pet him with sympathy.

The silence of the moment, the simple calming presence of the hound, its smooth coat against his skin makes him feel calmer than he has in weeks. That is until the scent of fragrant greenery reminds him where he.

He stands abruptly and glances around. Her room is lite by a low burning hearth, its desk and shelves are filled with herbs, potted and dry, along with books and potions. There’s a crisply made bed and a comfy reading chair by a full mirror with clothes scattered around it. Clearly, she had debated on what to wear and when he notices small clothes amongst the piles he decides he probably shouldn’t be in here. In a lady’s private chambers. In her private chambers…alone.

No sooner has the thought hit him than the door flies open with Angelique carrying bundles of elfroot, prophets laurel and other plants he can’t name. Hidden behind her mountain of herbs she trips on the dog to be sent stumbling into the room.

Greenery goes  flying and instinct kicks in, driving Cullen forwards with arms out stretched. She collides with his chest as he catches her, causing further chaos as potent plants explode around them. The bundle of healing herbs ends up in her thick hair, flattened between them and covering the floor and dog alike with a wild windswept sprinkling of leaves and flowers.

Flustered, Angelique’s eyes travel up to meet his, a rosy blush ever growing on her cheeks.

His heart rate soars, his pulsing setting his nerves on fire at the sense of her pressed against the plane of his chest. “Sorry,” he mumbles quickly and attempts to step back, but she squeezes his arm.

“For catching me?” she asks with a tilt of her head, her hand still wrapped snuggly around his arm.

“Yes, I - I mean, no…Of course not. Not the catching…I would always catch you. For the, er,” heat scorches up the back of his neck, prickling his skin as it ran across his face. Maker’s breath why couldn’t he find his bloody words!

“I know you would,” she replied gently and he’s drawn to the sweet tone of it. He notices how she isn’t pulling away.

“Angelique…I…” his words fail him as they twist in his mind and never reach his tongue. She’s so beautiful up close, as stunning now as she had been at the Winter Palace, as she had been when he should’ve kissed her. When he’d lost his nerve, when he’d failed to show her how he felt.

Gently he picks a strand of elfroot from her hair, his hand lingering by her face, holding his breath as his thumb brushes over her cheek.

The way her eyes look up at him now, in the flicker of the dying fire, the way they hold his gaze, almost burning as she starts to squeeze his arm, rosy lips slightly parted…

Dipping forward his lips crash against hers. Suddenly he’s kissing her. Hot and filled with passion he can no longer contain as his tongue slips against hers. She’s kissing back and it’s all the permission he needs.

His hand wraps around the back of her head to pull her flush against him. Her own mouth exploring his, turning the kiss deep and sensual, as he’s flooded by her taste.

Breathless he lightly pulls his reddened lips away, releasing her so his hand can instead tug at the back of his collar as his eyes look off to the side. “Sorry…I shouldn’t have…I…”

“Yes, you should,” with that she smiles and tiptoes and up to softly kiss his scar. With a light wistful smile, lost to all but her in the near darkness, he returns the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments if you liked it all help keep me going!


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